A Daddy for Dillon

by Stella Bagwell

  In two strides he was at her side, untying the belt on her robe, only to have her halt his busy fingers.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “I’ll shut the door. Just in case Dillon should wake.”

  As he watched her deal with the door, he asked, “Does Dillon often wake at night?”

  “Never. I guess he plays so hard it makes him sleep soundly.”

  She returned to his side and he leaned over and switched off the lamp. “I want to see you washed with moonlight,” he said softly.

  With the light off, he turned back to her and quickly slipped the robe from her body. Beneath the garment she was totally nude, and the sight of her small, sensual curves pulled a groan of pleasure from his throat.

  “Quint accused me of drinking this evening. And I couldn’t blame him. It was hell following his conversation and I asked him to repeat himself a half dozen times.” His hands skimmed over her smooth, heated skin, along the slopes and valleys that made up her body. “I couldn’t explain to him that I was drunk on you. That all I could think about was getting you back in my arms. It’s crazy how much I want you, Leyla.”

  Laying her on the bed, he quickly shed his clothing then joined her on the cool quilt. She settled into his arms with a sigh and he quickly brought his lips down on hers. He kissed her until deep moans filled her throat and the agony gripping his body became too much to bear.

  When he rolled her onto her back and straddled her, she looked up at him, her eyes shining with a tender light that melted his very bones. She had to love him. She just had to. Otherwise, he would be empty.

  The desperate thought raced through his mind as he quickly connected his body to hers. But once he’d sunk himself deep within her, his mind lost all thought except pushing the two of them to that special place. A place he’d never visited until this afternoon when she’d led him into a secret wonderland.

  Much later, after the heat of their passion had run its course, Laramie tucked her into the protective curve of his body and murmured in a drained voice, “Now I can talk. We can talk.”

  His hand was resting against her stomach and she threaded her fingers through his. “I thought that’s what we’d been doing,” she said.

  Smiling with pleasure, he nuzzled his face against the side of her silky hair. “That was body talk. I need to speak words. I need to say things I should have said back at the house before we…well, before we—”

  His search for the right words halted as she twisted her body around so that their faces were only inches apart and her pert little breasts were crushed against his chest.

  “Had sex,” she finished for him.

  Disappointment tugged the corners of his lips downward. “That wasn’t having sex. Not to me. It was making love.”

  A guarded look washed over her face. “That’s a big difference, Laramie.”

  Sighing, he pulled his fingers from hers and used them to comb her tousled hair back from her brow. “I want you to understand that I’m not here with you like this just because I want to have sex with you. I love you, Leyla.”

  Even in the semi-darkness he could see her eyes searching his face, as though she was going to find something there to clarify his words, to explain why he’d spoken them at all.

  “Love me? Oh, Laramie, are you sure you know what you’re saying?”

  A frown puckered his brow. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. Why? Don’t you believe me?”

  Her head swung gently back and forth. “Yes, I believe you. I’m just amazed, that’s all. You could have any woman you want, Laramie. Especially one who doesn’t have another man’s child.”

  He groaned at her reasoning. “The fact that you are a mother makes you more lovable to me.”

  She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “You’re such a good man, Laramie. But loving me would mean taking on a heavy load. You could do better.”

  Sitting up at an angle to her back, he placed his hands on her bare shoulders and rested his cheek alongside hers. “It’s hard for me to believe someone as beautiful and kind and precious as you has come into my life. And as far as me doing better—before you came to the ranch I’d given up on finding any woman to share my life. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly from a family of bluebloods. And I’ve sure never met a woman who would consider making a home with me here on the ranch, so many miles from civilization. But I happen to believe you’re different—that you like it here. And that you can look past my lack of family. Most of all, I believe you care for me. More than you want to admit.”

  Bending her head, she sniffed and wiped at the moisture in her eyes. “I do care for you, Laramie. I—” Her words halted as her upper body suddenly twisted toward him and her hands desperately clutched his upper arms. “I more than care for you. I love you.”

  Just hearing her say the words sent joy spilling from his heart and spreading through him like warm rivulets of sunshine. Quickly, he gathered her into his arms and tried to convey all he was feeling in one lengthy kiss.

  Finally, he eased his lips away from hers and spoke in a happy rush. “Oh, Leyla, darling. I want you to marry me. Soon! I want the three of us to be a family. And I don’t want us to stop there. I want us to have more children. Children that will keep our love going on and on.”

  A wistful sigh passed her lips. “You make it sound so easy and wonderful.”

  He smiled. “It will be. All you have to do is say yes.”

  Her expression turned rueful. “You’re asking me to take a huge step—to make all sorts of changes that would affect me and Dillon and my aunt.”

  “That’s right,” he said earnestly. “I’m asking. I’m hoping you love me enough to make those changes.”

  She turned her gaze away from him and over to the wide-paned window. Moonlight bathed her delicate profile, and as lovely as she looked at this moment, Laramie realized it was far more than her beauty that he’d fallen in love with. It was her gentle, caring essence and her quiet, sturdy strength.

  “Oh, Laramie, I’m so honored that you feel this way. But my heart is tearing in all different directions right now.”

  He bent his head to press a kiss to her damp temple. “Why? If you love me, you shouldn’t feel torn about anything.”

  Shifting toward him, she rested her head against his shoulder and Laramie took the opportunity to stroke the long hair lying against her back.

  “Laramie, how can you be so sure about marriage? You’re what—thirty-three or so? You’ve been a bachelor for a long time. You might decide that marriage wasn’t what you want after all.”

  “I have been a bachelor for a long time. But that doesn’t mean I’m confused. I’ve thought this out, Leyla, and I’m sure about what I want,” he said firmly. “You’re the one who clearly has doubts.”

  “We’ve not known each other that long. Being cautious makes sense,” she countered.

  Trying to stem his rising frustration, he closed his eyes, drew in a long breath, then heaved it out. “Does love always have to make sense? You deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. To give Dillon—”

  “You’re right. I have Dillon to think of and—”

  He interrupted her words by easing her head away from his shoulder. “And you want to find a man who can be a real daddy to Dillon, is that it? You don’t believe a throwaway kid like me would ever be good enough to—”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking!”

  Her evasive remark grated on his already bruised emotions. “Look, Leyla, I used to think I wasn’t good enough to be a father. That because I didn’t have a regular dad or come from a traditional family I wouldn’t know how to be the sort of example a child needs, that I wouldn’t know how to love or nurture or protect. But then I met you and Dillon and everything started to feel different to me. I began to dream and then I began to believe my life truly could be different.” Taking her face between his palms, he gazed at her with firm conviction. “My mother and father walked out of my life and knowing
the pain that’s caused me—well, I could never walk away from Dillon or any other children we might be blessed enough to have.”

  Tears reappeared in her eyes and her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I happen to think you’d make a great father.”

  “You do? Then what—”

  Pulling away from him, she moved off the bed and plucked her robe from the floor. His mind whirling with confusion, he watched her slip her arms through the sleeves, then knot the sash at her waist.

  “I have other responsibilities. Like Aunt Oneida. I’m all the family she has. Pretty soon she’ll be well enough to get out of the nursing facility. She’ll need a place to stay and me to care for her.”

  “We can deal with that.”

  “How? Move her into this house?” Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, she leveled a challenging look at him. “You can’t just move a stranger in here, along with me and Dillon. Not on a permanent basis. You don’t own this house.”

  The gist of her resistance suddenly dawned on him. He quickly slid from the bed and reached for his jeans. As he tugged them on, he tried to tamp down the anger and dejection that was threatening to overtake him.

  “I see,” he muttered, his voice a husky growl. “I get it now, Leyla. To you I’m just a glorified ranch hand and this house doesn’t belong to me. My name isn’t listed on the deed to the Chaparral. And that’s all that’s important to you, isn’t it? Ownership!”

  She gasped with outrage. “That’s totally unfair. You don’t understand. I—”

  “I understand completely.” Grabbing his shirt, he didn’t bother putting it on. Instead he started toward the door. Once he opened it and stepped across the threshold, he paused and looked back at her. “I’m sorry, Leyla. I’m the one who’s made a mistake. I believed you and I were on the same page. Today in the little stucco I thought—” He shook his head with rueful acceptance. “Forget it. Forget everything.”

  *

  The next morning, as Leyla sat at the kitchen table, her hands clutched tightly around a mug of coffee, she wondered why she’d even bothered to go to bed last night after Laramie had left so abruptly. She’d not slept at all. Instead, she’d lain awake staring at the ceiling and asking herself why she was so weak, so willing to follow a path to heartache.

  The sound of Dillon’s bare feet rapidly pattering into the kitchen brought her head around and she forced a bright smile as he ran the last few steps to her.

  “Good morning, sweet face.” Drawing him close, she pecked kisses on both his cheeks.

  Giggling, he wiped at the spots with one fist. “Me not sweet face, Mommy. Me cowboy.”

  Sighing, she rose to her feet and walked over to the cabinets. “And a very cute one,” she told her son. “Are you ready for breakfast, cowboy?”

  “I wanna get my boots and hat. I wanna wear ’em now. So Larmee can see me.”

  He started to turn and race out of the room, but Leyla quickly called out to him.

  “Wait, Dillon. Laramie isn’t going to eat breakfast with us this morning. He’s already gone. He had to eat early and go to work.” At least that’s what the brief note had stated. The one she’d found pinned to the refrigerator when she’d entered the kitchen earlier this morning. It was possible that he’d truly had to leave the house before daylight. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened. But in this incidence Leyla figured he’d used work as an excuse not to see her. The notion just piled on more hurt to the pain and regret she’d already been feeling.

  Moping now, Dillon went over to the table and climbed onto one of the chairs. With his chin resting against his chest, he remained silent. Her son’s disappointment now was only just the beginning of how it would be once the two of them left the ranch and the man was truly out of their lives.

  Walking over to him, Leyla gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “You can still wear your boots and hat if you want to,” she suggested.

  His head wagged back and forth, the dejected movement accompanied by a telltale sniff. Leyla used her forefinger to lift his face up toward hers. “What’s this?” she asked, speaking of his tears. “Don’t you remember what Laramie told you? Cowboys don’t cry.”

  Nodding, he scrubbed his eyes with both fists, then asked with eager anticipation, “Will Larmee come home tonight?”

  Her chest tight with pain, she did her best to give him an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he will. And I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”

  If Laramie allowed the rift between them to keep him away from Dillon, then he wasn’t nearly the man she’d thought him to be.

  *

  Later that morning, Sassy arrived for work and Leyla was braced for more questions and innuendoes regarding Laramie. But the other woman surprised her by not mentioning him at all. Leyla was grateful. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sassy’s well-meaning advice.

  Instead, when the two women stopped for lunch, Sassy brought up the subject of Reena and the question of when she’d be returning to the Chaparral.

  “You haven’t heard from her today, have you?” Sassy asked as she folded a piece of bologna between a piece of bread.

  Across the kitchen table, Leyla had been forcing herself to eat a small portion of tuna salad. “Why no,” Leyla replied. “Did she say she was going to call back?”

  “Not exactly. But I got the impression she would. If I remember right, Jim’s checkup was this morning. Why don’t you call her? She might have some news about his X-rays.”

  It would certainly help to know how many more days she could expect to be here, Leyla thought. But she didn’t like the idea of calling the woman and pressing her for information.

  “I don’t think I should. She might get the wrong idea.”

  Making an impatient sound, Sassy swallowed the last of the bologna and bread and rose to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous. She won’t think anything of it. I’ll call her myself.”

  Picking up the phone on the end of the cabinet, Sassy made the call. While her friend talked, Leyla tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation. Instead, she turned her attention to Dillon, who was making a game of crumbling crackers into his alphabet soup.

  After a somewhat lengthy swap of words, Sassy finally placed the receiver back on its hook and walked back to the table. Leyla took one glance at the puckered frown on the other woman’s face and wondered what could have possibly put it there.

  “Jim’s X-rays were good. The bone is healed. The cast is off and he’s starting therapy tomorrow,” she relayed.

  Leyla didn’t know whether to cry or shout with joy. Common sense told her that the quicker she left this ranch and put distance between herself and Laramie, the better off she’d be. But her heart wasn’t listening to logic. She loved Laramie. To leave him would be like tearing out her heart and tossing it away.

  “Oh. That’s good news,” she said.

  Sassy seemed unaware of the guarded note in Leyla’s voice. Instead, she reached for a potato chip. “I asked Reena when she thought she’d be coming home. But she didn’t make much sense when she answered.”

  Trying not to appear anxious, Leyla asked, “What do you mean?”

  Sassy shrugged. “I’m not sure. She started talking about how much Abe needed her there and that she wasn’t about to leave him just yet. Along with that I got the feeling that she wasn’t looking forward to leaving the old man period.” She looked at Leyla and let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Reena and Abe. Who would have ever thought it?”

  “Well, the last time I talked with her,” Leyla said, “I recall her calling him a sweetheart. But I thought she meant it in a general sense.” She glanced at Sassy. “There’s a large age gap between the two of them, isn’t there? I’ve not met the elder Cantrell, but his photo is on the desk in the study. He looks somewhat older than Reena.”

  Sassy laughed. “Somewhat! Honey, I’d guess Abe has to be around eighty-six, if he’s a day. But to be fair, he gets
around like a man thirty years younger.” A wistful expression came over the maid’s face as she gazed beyond Leyla’s shoulder to the window overlooking the ranch yard. “Isn’t it romantic? Reena is such a lovely woman and she’s been alone for so long. To think she’s fallen for Abe—well, it’s just dreamy.”

  “It’s surprising,” Leyla replied.

  Annoyed with Leyla’s attitude, Sassy glanced at her. “Leyla, you’re just not a romantic soul. And I can hardly figure why when you obviously have Laramie wrapped around your little finger.”

  Rising quickly to her feet, Leyla carried her dirty dish to the sink. “ I don’t want to talk about him,” she said firmly.

  A long stretch of silence passed and then Sassy said, “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about leaving the ranch anytime soon, if ever. Because frankly, I don’t believe Reena intends to come back to the Chaparral.”

  How would that change things for her and Dillon? Leyla wondered, her mind spinning in all directions. Laramie had asked her to marry him. Most any woman in her shoes would be walking on a cloud about now. Instead, she was frozen with doubts and fears.

  When she’d told him that she loved him, the words had come straight from her heart. But for them to be married—how would it ever work? She’d definitely have to forsake her plans to be a nurse. At least, for a while. Along with that he’d be taking on more than a wife. Dillon and Oneida would also become his responsibilities. That was a lot to ask a man who’d been a bachelor all his life. What if the stress of it all crushed his love for her? Or should she be giving him more credit? He’d dealt with all sorts of heavy loads in his life. Maybe he could handle a ready-made family.

  Forget the questions, Leyla. You’ve probably already managed to kill whatever feelings Laramie had for you. He believes you have your sights on bigger fish. He thinks you’re all about owning. Not loving.

  Oh, God, what was she going to do? she silently prayed.